


Our Mrs. Woods

by sans_carte



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Firefly Setting, F/F, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, and characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sans_carte/pseuds/sans_carte
Summary: Lexa isn’t a Commander of the Browncoats anymore.  She’s just a captain, trying to keep her crew fed and their Firefly-class ship running.  Somehow, she winds up accidentally married.For Clexa Pride Week Day 3, Accidental/Arranged Marriage.  There'll be another couple chapters of this at some point.





	Our Mrs. Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Shamelessly borrowing much of the dialogue and initial plot from the Firefly episode "Our Mrs. Reynolds", but it'll diverge a bit more as the story goes on.

The covered wagon rattles as the horses pull it through the creek. Two women sit on the front bench, one in trousers and a wide-brimmed hat, the other in a dress and bonnet pulled close to her face.  As a group of armed men ride up, their horses’ hooves splashing the water, the woman in the trousers reins in her own team. 

“Pardon me for intruding, but I believe y'all’re carrying something of mine.”  The lead rider’s voice carries none of the politeness of his words, and the expression in his eyes is flat. 

“T'ain't yours, Cage!” the trouser-clad woman replies.

“Did you think we wouldn't find out you changed your route?” When the woman doesn’t respond, Cage smirks.  “You’re gonna give us what’s due us, and every damn thing else on that boat. And I think maybe you're gonna give me a little one-on-one time with the missus,” he adds, leering at the woman in the bonnet.

“Oh, I think you might wanna reconsider that last part,” Octavia drawls, looking up and pushing her hat up on top of her head.  “She don’t take to fellas. Last one who tried somethin’ got pushed off the top of a building.”

Lexa scoffs and glares at her ‘wife’.  “That was one time! And he deserved it.”

“You also stabbed that other guy in the hand when he grabbed your ass…”

“Oh, so we’re just tellin’ all my business to strangers now?” Lexa pretends to gape at her.  “You are  _ not _ the woman I married a year ago.”

The bandits shift uneasily on their horses, bewildered by this conversation, and one of them makes a vague move towards his gun.  In perfect sync, Lexa and Octavia rapidly draw their guns on the men, while Lexa pulls off her bonnet. Her green eyes are icy as she stares down the bandits’ leader.

“Now think real hard,” she says, quiet and dangerous.  “You been bird-dogging TonDC for a while now, Cage Wallace. They wouldn't mind a corpse of you. Now you can luxuriate in a nice jail cell, but if your hand touches metal, I swear by my pretty flowered bonnet, I will end you.” 

For a few long seconds, no one moves.  Then Cage decides to be stupid.  

“Take ‘em!” he shouts.

The nearest man moves as if to shoot, but a sudden gunshot from the back of the wagon knocks him off his horse.  Anya is leaning out from the side of the wagon, her gun as steady as her glare.

Suddenly it’s a free-for-all, bullets and water and shards of wood from the wagon flying everywhere; one of the latter slices a deep gash in Lexa’s left hand.  Fortunately the bandits are poor shots, used to relying on intimidation alone.  

The last surviving one turns his horse and tries to make a run for it.  Anya unhesitatingly jumps from the wagon, firing a single neat shot that takes him down before she splashes into the water.

In the echoing silence that follows, the horses snort and shift uneasily.  Anya and Lexa wade through the water checking the bandits for signs of life...and then checking their pockets for valuables.

“Nicely done,” Lexa says in approval.  

Octavia spits into the water.  “Still wish you’d’a let me bring grenades,” she grumbles.

“Wasn’t any need for it,” Lexa tells her.  “Now let’s get ‘em in the wagon and back to town so’s we can get paid.”

“Music to my ears, Cap’n,” Anya says.  “Raven keeps tellin’ me there’s a part she wants to buy for the ship.  Talked my ear off about it last night.”

“Your wife always got a part she wants to buy for the ship--Octavia, what are you doing?” Lexa interrupts herself, since her crew member--the ship’s rough-mannered brawler and weapons expert--is holding up one of the dead bandit’s feet.

“What, he’s got nice boots.  And they look to be the same size as Lincoln’s feet,” the woman says defensively.  “I’m allowed to get my man a gift, ain’t I?”

“A gift stolen off a dead man’s feet.  How romantic,” Anya drawls.

Lexa shakes her head.  “I should be thankful we ain’t really married, huh.”

Octavia just cheerfully cusses them out in Trigedasleng as she removes the man’s boots.

***

And then there’s the celebration.  There’s fayawada--lots of it--bonfires, food that isn’t protein cubes, and music. Shepherd Indra is off on her own, saying a quiet prayer over the graves dug for the bandits.  Someone gives Octavia a rainstick. (She’s transfixed by it, and keeps drunkenly showing Lincoln, the ship’s pilot, how it makes rain noises.) Anya and Raven cozy up by the fire together, all sweet and married, and then a very pretty girl comes up to Lexa.  

She has blonde hair, blue eyes, a beauty mark over her lip, and curves that fit nicely against Lexa’s frame when they dance. She wears a flower crown on her head, and places another atop Lexa’s head—Lexa is drunk enough that she just grins and boastingly points the crown out to Anya. The woman lifts a bowl of something sweet and eyewateringly alcoholic up to Lexa’s lips, and when their eyes meet across it Lexa nearly falls off the log she’s sitting on.  

Then they’re dancing again, fingers intertwined, and Lexa lets go of it all for once, the responsibility for her ship and crew, the memories of Serenity Valley and the war. She reels the girl in for a breathless, heady kiss.

At first she seems surprised, or maybe shy, but then she melts into the kiss, returning it, a gentle hand cupping Lexa’s elbow…

Lexa wakes with an aching head, a queasy stomach, and her injured hand throbbing. She throws on a rumpled shirt and stumbles into her trousers and suspenders, then heads for the cargo bay.  Around her she hears the hum of the engines warming up, as Lincoln goes through the pre-flight prep.

“You finally decided to join the living, Cap’n,” Anya ribs her when she arrives.  Her second mate, Raven, and Octavia are busy carrying supplies into the cargo bay, helped out by a couple of the townspeople of TonDC. 

“Shhh,” Lexa says with a wince, to her crew’s laughter. “Not so loud.”

She does her best to help with loading cargo while struggling not to  _ un _ load her stomach, until the bearded man who’s the leader of the tiny community comes to say a final thanks. Chatting with him is easy—and a good way to ensure he might call in the future if they ever need hired guns again.

“Elder Nyko, thank you for the hospitality.” 

“I'm sorry we have so little to pay our debt, Captain Woods--though I hope our gifts will show our regards,” the man tells her.

“I don't think Octavia's ever lettin' go of that stick,” Lexa says with a laugh.

Anya pulls her aside, murmuring, “there's a patrol boat heading into atmo right now.  Seems like Cage might’ve had some connections in high places.”

Lexa nods sharply, and claps Nyko on the shoulder quickly, shepherding him off the ship.  “Well, we gotta fly.”

“We'll pray for a safe voyage, and hope to lay eyes on you again ere too long, my friend. And congratulations,” he adds, eyes twinkling above his beard as he steps away from the cargo hatch.

Lexa’s a bit puzzled by his last comment, but shakes it off as she hits the button to close the hatch.  As Lincoln takes them up and out of atmo, she works on neatening up the cargo hold, putting things away in storage racks.

When she catches movement in the corner of her eye, Lexa startles.  Her hand goes immediately to the gun at her hip.

“I’m sorry.”  The rushed phrase--or rather the uncertain, frightened tone behind them--stays her hand.  It’s a young woman, Lexa’s own age or even younger, standing cautiously from where she’d been crouched behind a storage crate.  Her long, wavy blonde hair and dimpled chin look somehow familiar…

“Who the hell are you?!” Lexa exclaims. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, I think I was pretty clear.  What are you doing on my boat?” 

The woman looks confused--or like she’s confused by Lexa’s confusion.  “Did Elder Nyko not tell you, Captain?”

“Tell me what? Who are you?” Lexa’s getting frustrated now.

“My name is Clarke Griffin…” the blonde says slowly, her eyes dipping down to the floor and then back up to Lexa’s face, “...and I'm your wife.”

***


End file.
